


Trade Secret

by the_ragnarok



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Hair-pulling, M/M, hints of D/s
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-06-24 20:31:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19731244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_ragnarok/pseuds/the_ragnarok
Summary: Long hair is a tactical disadvantage, though not always for the reason people think.





	Trade Secret

Long hair is a tactical disadvantage, though not always for the reason people think.

John knows one guy who kept his hair long as an intentional diversion. "Scar tissue," the guy told John, tapping his temple where a chunk of hair was just torn out by the roots. "Can't feel nothin'. Gets people thinking they can get me when they can't, y'know?"

John does know. And he keeps his hair short, but not too short. People can get a hold on him if they really need to. Most of the time, John doesn't let them.

"We better disinfect this," Harold says, dabbing antiseptic over the scratch on John's collarbone. "And is your scalp all right? That pull looked vicious."

"It's fine," John says. He's not a masochist, but some pain he likes. Or maybe it's that pain matters less than having Harold's hands on him. "I don't mind."

Harold's mouth purses. "I wish you would. Perhaps you'd take better care."

John tries not to let that sting. Harold can lash out when he's worried. He's not really doubting John's abilities, or decision making. "I'm trying."

Harold lets out a long sigh. "Of course you are." He shakes his head. "Forgive me. I try not to blame the victim."

"Hey," John says, keeping his voice light. "Who are you calling the victim?"

"The one who was nearly plucked bald," Harold says dryly. "And yes, before you ask, I did see the other guy."

It's adrenaline, gotta be, making John reach for Harold's hand and put it on his hair. "I really don't mind," he says. "See for yourself."

"I'm not going to hurt you to make a point," Harold says, aghast. But John entwines their fingers and takes hold of his own hair and _pulls_.

The groan comes out unintentionally. He's slightly loopy: maybe Harold should check him for a concussion, too. It just feels too good, Harold's hands on him, moving him.

After a silent moment, Harold says, "That is not what you sound like in pain," vaguely accusatory.

John grins at him. "Trade secret."

Harold's hand flexes of its own volition, tightening and pulling, this time without John to guide him. "Fuck," John says, low and soft.

"That, too, can be arranged if you like."

John laughs soundlessly, his eyes rolling back in his head. Harold's got a rhythm, pulling and letting go, and the pressure in John's scalp is delicious. "Keep doing this and I'll do anything you want, Harold."

Harold pulls a little harder at that, making John groan. And that's another part of the secret: that he'd do anything Harold would say, anyway.


End file.
